Navigating Uncertainty at Sea

“The value of things is not the time they last, but the intensity with which they occur. That is why there are unforgettable moments and unique people!”

Fernando Pessoa

 

Wind Surf Transatlantic Sailing Day 12

Confusion on Board

 

Today, our twelfth day at sea aboard Wind Surf during her transatlantic crossing from Sint Maarten to Lisbon, felt unusual from the start. Something had shifted, both inside and out. After several long, full days of watching whales, dolphins, seabirds, storm fronts, sails, and shifting seas, we slept a little later than usual. Sean was still up on deck by around seven, but even his early report suggested a different kind of morning. The sky was overcast, the sea looked strangely calm, and yet the swells beneath us remained large. Most noticeably, we seemed barely to be moving forward at all.

 

We were also the point at which we were distinctly beyond the midway mark of the voyage and beyond the planned, though never visited, port call of Ponta Delgada. From here, the final days at sea truly began. We were no longer heading toward a mid-ocean or a stop in the Azores. We were now approaching Europe, Lisbon, and whatever came after this crossing.

 

Exactly how many full sea days remained, however, was unclear.

 

I say unclear because confusion had begun to ripple through the ship. Some of it came from the officers, some from the port presenter, some from crew speculation, and much of it from the ordinary shipboard rumour mill that forms whenever information is incomplete. The television suggested one arrival time. The itinerary screen on the cabin TV suggested another. The captain had apparently told people we might dock tomorrow morning, a full two days early. Other crew members said the matter was still being debated because it is expensive for a ship to remain in port for two additional days. Around us, passengers discussed whether the captain had deliberately skipped Ponta Delgada in order to ensure Wind Surf reached Lisbon early this year.

 

Whether any of that was true or not was almost beside the point. Uncertainty itself had become the atmosphere of the day.

 

Still, if the voyage was now entering its final stretch, then the only reasonable response was to seize each remaining moment. Arrival would come soon enough. For now, we were still at sea.

 

Morning Gull Sighting

 

We had our final time change last night, another unmistakable sign that we were entering the last stage of our crossing. Awake, showered, and ready, we stepped onto the deck by seven.  The air felt warmer, the waters were calm, and the sky seemed divided: clear to port, cloudy and slate grey over the sea to starboard. Oddly, there were no birds, no flying fish, no obvious signs of life. Everything felt eerily quiet, which was both beautiful and a little unsettling.

 

The wind direction had changed, marked by the flag snapping differently at the front of Wind Surf. That small detail also added to the sense that the voyage had entered a new phase.

 

Around 8:30, as we wandered the promenade deck, I spotted a single gull at the back end of the ship. It flew off almost as soon as I saw it, but even that brief glimpse mattered. After so many days of pelagic birds, distant shearwaters, and open-ocean watching, a gull felt like a message from land. We were drawing closer to shore, whether or not we were ready to arrive.

 

Not long after, the sky began to turn pink, then slowly transformed into a golden glow that bathed both the sea and the clouds. Even on a morning filled with uncertainty, the light continued to do what light does. It arrived without concern for our confusion.

 

Breakfast at Veranda

 

Around nine, we headed to Veranda for breakfast: Swiss muesli, fruit, coffee, and one of the ship’s detox drinks – today’s flavour being watermelon and strawberry. We were among the last to arrive for breakfast, having taken our time with the morning, and several people nearby were already deep in speculation about Lisbon.

 

Would we dock tomorrow? Would we arrive the next day? Would we be allowed to remain on board until the scheduled disembarkation date? Would we be asked to leave early? Should we take advantage of extra time in Portugal? Should we stay on the ship? Should we go to Fátima, Faro, Gibraltar, or somewhere else entirely?

 

It appeared that by missing Ponta Delgada, we had gained more than a single day. We might now arrive in Lisbon two days ahead of schedule. But being in port is costly, so uncertainty remained about whether Wind Surf would actually dock that early or slow her pace to arrive closer to the planned time. Passengers speculated, staff discussed possibilities, and yet no one seemed entirely sure what would happen.

 

The experience made us appreciate anew the challenge that White Star and Cunard ocean liners once faced, and that Queen Mary 2 still faces, in offering a regular transatlantic service on a fixed schedule. We have crossed both eastbound and westbound aboard Queen Mary 2, and she has always departed on time, arriving only a few hours late once after passing through a tropical storm and missing the tide time. It is easy to take that reliability for granted. Aboard Wind Surf, we were again learning firsthand that maintaining a schedule across an ocean is no small feat.

As land approached, it felt as though uncertainty and indecision were rushing back in. The simplicity of life at sea was coming to an end, as we always knew it would. Whether we arrived one day early or two did not really matter – not in any practical sense. Windstar had never suggested that we would be required to disembark before the scheduled morning of April 18, so there was no urgent need to make arrangements. Yet the possibility of being docked opened a flood of options, and options can be surprisingly destabilizing. Especially for someone who is not great at decision-making.

 

Stay on board. Explore Lisbon. Go to Fátima. Head south earlier. Take a train. Go to Gibraltar. Change plans. Make plans. Do something. Decide.

 

Around us, the ocean remained unchanged. Standing at the railings after breakfast, we spotted five Striped Dolphins leaping and swimming with one fluid, joyful motion. The sun was doing its best to break through the clouds, and a warmish breeze moved across the deck. The world itself was carrying on as it had yesterday and the day before, unhurried and unworried. The sense that the journey was ending, along with all the uncertainty that came with it, existed largely in our minds.

 

Even knowing that, even understanding that we are not our thoughts and do not need to obey every story they tell us, it can be difficult to remain peaceful once the mind begins spinning again.

 

Rolling in the Deep

 

Amid the debates and conversations, something strange happened around 9:30. The engines cut out, and Wind Surf came to a complete stop.

 

The sudden quiet was eerie. Without the vibration of forward movement, the ship simply bobbed in the swells, rocking from side to side while the waves lapped gently against her hull. There was no wind, no forward swoosh, no wake streaming behind us. The sounds were more like sitting beside a dock on a lake, except that in every direction there was only open ocean and sky.

 

Standing at the stern, it felt strange to look back and see no wake, only smooth water. For a moment, we had a small taste of what sailors and pirates must have felt when trapped in the doldrums near the equator: motionless, suspended, dependent on forces beyond themselves.

Slowly, the thrusters and engines were re-engaged one by one, seeming to stutter back into life and then fade again. Half an hour later, the engines started once more, and the ship turned in a full circle almost in place. Then the process repeated. Forward motion, stillness, turning, waiting.

It felt as though we were purposefully burning time, taking slow travel to an entirely new level.

 

It also felt uncomfortably symbolic. In our own conversations about the future, we too seemed to be moving in this same pattern: pushing forward, coming to a complete stop, turning in circles, and then trying again without knowing whether we had made any progress.

 

Sea Turtles and Calm Waters

 

Then, as we sat at the mercy of the swells, something spectacular swam past - a sea turtle!

 

After days of dolphins, whales, shearwaters, and distant spouts on the horizon, the turtle offered a different kind of encounter. It was slower, quieter, and somehow more immediate. Turtles at sea always seem ancient to me, as though they belong to a deeper timescale than our own anxieties. They move through water with an unhurried grace that makes human urgency look almost foolish.

 

We could not identify the species with certainty from our brief view, though the possibility of a large ocean-going turtle immediately made us think of leatherbacks. Leatherback turtles are among the great travellers of the sea, crossing entire ocean basins, diving to extraordinary depths, and feeding largely on jellyfish. Whether this individual was a leatherback or another species, the sighting felt like a gift made possible by our slowness. Had the ship been moving quickly, we might never have seen it.

 

There was symbolism there, too, though perhaps by now we were finding symbolism everywhere.

 

We were floating almost motionless off the coast of Portugal, in a sailing yacht, surrounded by calm water, while speculation churned on board. Around us, some passengers continued debating arrival times and disembarkation possibilities. Others simply relaxed, tucked into quiet corners with books, binoculars, or their own thoughts. The crew worked steadily, preparing the ship for a new season in the Mediterranean.

 

It felt as though we were being pushed between extremes: chaotic uncertainty in the mind and the calm around us in the water.

 

Luggage Tags, Practical Tasks and Trivia

 

Around 10:30, we went back inside to drop off our sweaters and take care of practical things. The ship was still at or near a dead stop, which made the return to ordinary tasks feel slightly surreal. Laundry needed to be sent out. End-of-voyage preparations had begun. And when we reached our cabin, we discovered the tags of despair: luggage tags and disembarkation information left at our door.

 

At the same time, we received a formal invitation to dine with Hotel General Manager Onur Baskurt, his wife Ximena, and others. The day seemed determined to hold opposites together: practical endings and gracious invitations, uncertainty and kindness, rumours and shipboard hospitality.

 

Reviewing the delivered information, we discovered that while we still did not know exactly when we would arrive, we did now know we could remain on board until April 18. Whether we wanted to do so became another matter for debate. Leaving early might give us more time in Fatima or Faro or Gibraltar. Staying would preserve the last of our shipboard life. We did not want to leave, and yet the possibilities tugged at us. Once again, our minds went in circles.

 

By eleven, we were in the Lounge for the morning trivia battle between passengers and crew. Originally, it was supposed to take place by the pool, with the losing team being dunked in the water, but the day was judged too cool for that. Instead, the competition consisted of three rounds: two sets of nautical questions and one music round in which contestants had to identify songs and artists by ear.

 

It was fun and challenging…

 

Noon Announcement

 

The captain's announcement at noon indicated that, despite it feeling like we are creeping forward, we are travelling at a speed of 10.9 knots over water that is 4,500 m deep.  Wind Surf has sailed more than 2,850 nautical miles since leaving Sint Maarten, with only 237 nautical miles left before we reach the mouth of the Tagus River, where Lisbon is located. We can expect favourable weather until we reach port, although swells may increase to 4 m or higher.

The fun facts for the day were once again about Wind Surf, this time with regard to the water filtration systems.  Apparently, there are two reverse osmosis filtration plants on board, capable of filtering and storing 500 cubic meters of water.  This means they are able to not only filter the water that is used, which is around 10 tons per hour, but they can also filter and store extra supplies.

Lunch and Beauty in the Chaos

 

When we went to lunch in the buffet, happily, it wasn't as busy as usual.  In fact, the ship seemed to be strangely empty, leaving us puzzled once again as to where everyone had gone.  I'm not sure what the theme at the buffet was today, but there seemed to be a variety of fish and meat dishes from the southern US, including mac 'n' cheese and corn bread, which I tried along with a bit of salad.

After lunch, we had a real treat.  Eka, one of the young men who works in the Yacht Club and in Veranda, has a unique skill that he has been sharing with the passengers.  With great precision, patience, and skill, he can create flowers from paper napkins.  He rips them by hand into strips and uses only a pen to help fold the paper - no glue, tape, or even scissors are used in the final creation.   The end product is a solid work of art, in no danger of unravelling or falling apart.  It was an amazing gift, and one made possible only through patience and kindness.

Amid the confusion of arrival rumours and the disappointment of knowing we might reach land earlier than expected, Eka created wonder out of almost nothing: a paper napkin, his hands, and a willingness to share beauty. Passengers loved receiving his flowers, and so did I.

 

It shifted the course of my thoughts for the day. Returned us to embracing the moment and opportunities at hand rather than lamenting what may or may not happen tomorrow and then the next day and the next...

 

In many ways, Eka gave us exactly what the day needed and created one of the most memorable moments on board Wind Surf this year.

 

Afternoon at Compass Rose

 

After lunch, we migrated to the back deck and sat under the awnings of Compass Rose. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and the sea was glassy calm. Almost eerily calm. The ship felt empty. Individual passengers were tucked into nooks and corners, sunbathing, reading, looking at their phones, or sitting with drinks. Conversation was muted or absent. The mood felt reflective.

 

It is always sad when a sea voyage begins drawing toward its conclusion. Today, I think everyone felt the end approaching, whether they acknowledge it. The uncertainty over arrival may have sharpened that feeling, but it did not create it. Every crossing contains this moment, when the open days behind you suddenly seem more numerous than the ones ahead.

 

Bridge Officers Q and A

 

At four, I went to hear the captain and bridge officers answer passenger questions. The discussion eventually centred on Windstar’s decision about the future of Wind Surf and the company’s sailing vessels. Apparently, there had been consideration of whether to replace the ships with new versions or extend the lives of the three existing sailing vessels.

 

The company, according to the discussion, has opted to extend the lives of these remarkable ships for as long as possible rather than replace them. The reasoning, as it was explained, seemed to be that Wind Surf and vessels like her have a spirit, heritage, and loyal following that the owners deeply respect.

 

I found that moving. In a world that so often rushes toward replacement, novelty, scale, and spectacle, there is something meaningful about choosing preservation. Wind Surf is not the newest ship. She is not the largest. She is not the easiest to categorize in an industry increasingly dominated by mega ships and floating resorts. But she has character. She has history. She has people who love her.

 

Perhaps not everything old needs replacing. Some things need care, repair, and continued life.

 

Evening on Wind Surf

 

After the bridge officers’ Q&A, I rejoined Sean at Compass Rose, where he was chatting and enjoying a glass of rosé at the aft of the ship. Eventually, with our dinner invitation approaching, we went down to refresh and change for the evening. Since we were dining with the Hotel General Manager, his wife, and invited guests, I put on my red dress, and Sean wore his suit, tie, and vest.

 

I love these evenings when travel asks us to break our at-home routines and to make an occasion of things. Wind Surf is ideal for that because the ship allows a lovely balance between casual relaxation and graceful elegance. You can spend the day barefoot in the wind, watching dolphins and drinking coffee in a sweater, and then dress for dinner without the formality feeling forced.

 

Dinner with Christina, Michael, Donna, Ximena, and Onur was a pleasure. I had a garden salad, mushroom pasta, and chocolate cake, but as always, the food was only part of the evening. 

The company, conversation, and warmth of the invitation made it memorable.

 

Liar’s Club

 

After dinner, we went to the lounge for Liar’s Club, an entertainment event led by Nikki. In this version, two passengers and two crew members each gave definitions of obscure terms, and the audience had to decide who was telling the truth.

 

The words were wonderfully odd: arachibutyrophobia, bipennis, clinomania, cachinnate. The definitions were delivered with great confidence, whether true or entirely invented, and the room was soon full of laughter as people debated who seemed most believable. It was exactly the kind of light, clever, fun that works well on a small ship.

 

After a day of uncertainty and drifting it felt good to simply laugh.

 

Compass Rose with Elaine Eagle

 

Afterward, we headed up to Compass Rose for a glass of wine and to listen to Elaine Eagle’s beautiful piano playing and singing.

 

Another day had passed by already, and we were that much closer to Lisbon and disembarkation. Neither of us felt ready to return to land or be confronted again with the realities of the world.  But I found myself wondering whether sitting in port aboard the ship would really be so different, or whether the difference existed mostly in the mind.

 

Perhaps it is not land itself that is unsettling me, but what land represents: decisions, messages, endings, onward travel, and the return of ordinary demands. At sea, all of those seem distant. 

 

Thankfully, this voyage is not yet over.  There is still time to enjoy and relax.  After all, even today amid the confusion and uncertainty, there had been dolphins, a sea turtle, a paper flower, music, laughter, and great company. 

 

See you on board!

 

Nautical Term of the Day – Dead Reckoning - Estimating position based on prior course and speed.